


Life in Wartime

by Axis2ClusterB



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, backstabbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:10:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axis2ClusterB/pseuds/Axis2ClusterB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma's learned how to hedge her bets at the harshest of hands. Written for the SoA commentfic meme on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life in Wartime

**Author's Note:**

> Title, opening lyric and total inspiration is from Life in Wartime by Talking Heads

_This ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around_

Gemma’s pretty sure she’s supposed to feel guilt. There’s something about the empty blackness of three in the morning that just lends itself to that particular emotion, but as much as she tries it on, she just can’t make it fit. Sure, the ring that’s on her finger wasn’t put there by the man that’s a softly snoring heap in the bed beside her, but she’s fairly sure that at this point in the game, that doesn’t even matter anymore. 

In fact, it’s become a point of pride to her that she keeps hers on, because she’s fairly sure that JT’s has come to rest on other women’s nightstands often enough to obliterate any moral high ground he could’ve ever had. 

Fuck the ‘fairly’ anyway. She’s well aware of how the croweaters look at her now, like she’s lost her man and she’s lost her place. Strangely enough, that’s the one thing that she can’t take, how they look at her. Thinking she’s no better than them now because for all that JT seems oblivious to how she spends her night – those bitches always seem to know. 

Well, she has a surprise or three waiting for them. They don’t know that ‘uncertain’ is the position she’s been in all her life – under Rose’s thumb, always waiting for the belt to fall – that she’s learned all about contingences. 

About accepting love where it’s offered, rather than trying to take it from someone who doesn’t know how to share.

Gemma butts her joint in the ashtray resting on her flat stomach – and yeah, even after two kids, the space between her hipbones is still perfect, and she’s vain enough to admit to being proud of it. She moves the ashtray to the nightstand and rolls to Clay, slides under the blanket with him and mouths his collarbone, her hand wandering slow through the warmth he’s collected around himself to his cock. She teases with her fingers, playing with the head until she hears his breathing start to stutter and feels him begin to grow for her, and then she slides her body down, shoving the blanket down to take him in her mouth, all the way down. His hands wind in her hair, and she thinks she’s never felt so powerful, never felt so adored as when his sleep-filled voice murmurs, “Gemma,” so rough, so wrecked, so goddamn _true_.

~*~

“It’s time,” she tells him quietly, when he’s been left panting and she’s wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Baby, it’s time.”

-End


End file.
